Kissling Lane
by MissJanuary
Summary: The blinds came down with a thwacking sound. As the bathtub filled with hot water, steam rose and curled in the air above the old claw-foot. The mirror began to fog; Bella leaned over the sink, extended her index finger and wrote: S A M
1. Chapter 1

This was my contribution to The Fandom for Mental Health Awareness, an amazing compilation that raised much needed money to support mental health organizations. Thank you to the ladies that put it together, and the wonderful people that supported it. Because it is quite long, I've broken it up into 2 chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

 **Summary:**

The blinds came down with a thwacking sound.

Moving from one room to the next, the small brunette pulled curtains and tugged on cords, sending white plastic blinds cascading down. She checked each window, and jiggled the locks on the front and back door. When she was satisfied, she marched to the bathroom and stripped off her sweaty clothes.

As the bathtub filled with hot water, steam rose and curled in the air above the old claw-foot. The mirror began to fog; Bella leaned over the sink, extended her index finger and wrote:

S A M

 **Warnings: Though no graphic violence, the topic of domestic violence is prevalent.**

 **Beta and Pre-reading support provided by:** Cejsmom and Lynzy Lee. Thank you ladies!

There's a house at the end of the street. It borders the beach. The curtains were always drawn and that poor car never seemed to get much action. The signs of life were slight; garbage at the curb every Tuesday morning, food delivery from the same expensive Greek place downtown, and even the odd visitor. Mostly women. But never, not once in the year since he, maybe she, moved onto Kissling Lane had Bella Swan seen someone that actually appeared to live there.

Bella's modest, yellow brick home at 14 Kissling Lane was inherited three and a half years ago when Bella's mother passed away. It gave her the perfect opportunity to start over. Life in Detroit had been a bit of a roller coaster ride, and not the thrilling fun kind. Jobs came and went, boyfriends too. She'd never felt settled or safe, so when Martin Floss, estate attorney, called with the news that twenty-two year old Isabella had been gifted a two bedroom home more than two hours away, she packed her bags and left the smog of the motor city in her rearview mirror.

The small harbour town, nestled into the banks of Lake Huron, was the polar opposite of Detroit. It was quiet and friendly, and the taste of industrial waste wasn't the first thing that hit her when she stepped out on to her porch each morning.

"Good morning." Tossing her earphones into her backpack, Bella greeted the receptionist, and friend, huddled behind the big darkwood desk.

"Mornin', Bells. First appointment is at nine. Jonathan Keel. Chipped his tooth chasing his sister around on a pair of old roller skates." Angela smiled and shook her head. "Boys."

Attaching her ID badge to her scrubs, Bella said, "Roller skates, they still make those? Ha!" She pulled her hair back in a messy bun and told Angela to send the rambunctious nine year-old to room three when he arrived. She went about her morning, setting up her station and reviewing files. It was what she'd done five days a week for three years now. Sterilize, organize, review.

From the outside, it seemed a humdrum existence, but to Bella, this was perfection, or something very close to it. Her love life remained something of a bad joke, though.

Knock, knock.

Who's there?

No one worth opening the door for.

"Going for a run tonight?" Dr. Yorkie asked, gesturing to the clothes Bella had changed into.

"Yup. Beautiful night, may as well take advantage." She switched off the computer at the front desk and pulled her backpack from the floor, stuffing a crinkled ball of bright blue material into it.

"Have a good weekend, Bells."

"You too, Eric. Oh, tell Mike those pumpkin tarts were _divine_. I want that recipe." Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she turned to the front door.

Eric chuckled, fishing his keys out of the desk drawer. "Will do."

Tucking blue buds into her ears, Bella hit play, and stepped out into a balmy evening. She could still smell the early afternoon rain lingering in the air. Starting off at a slow jog, Bella left Harbour Beach Dentistry behind her. Rounding a corner, she picked up the pace, Daft Punk thumping in her ears.

The feel of her feet hitting the pavement, the way her lungs pushed, and the warm sweat that rolled down her back gave her a rush. It wasn't one she indulged in very often, her prefered workout was searching Netflix and drinking white wine from a mason jar glass that had a Detroit Lions logo painted on it.

Running cleared her mind; let her organize her thoughts into manageable To-Do lists.

 _-Shopping_

 _-Banking_

 _-Birthday card for Charlie_

 _-Send a kind, but firm, blow off text to Marcus, and maybe delete the Plenty of Fish Profile. Can you filter for cross-dressers?_

Twenty-three minutes flew past, and as she came up on her street, she slowed until she worked her way down to a lazy jog. Two houses away from her own, Bella came to a sudden stop, nearly tripping over her feet. Her heart skipped sideways.

A tall figure, standing in the heavy shade of the waning sun, was peering into her bedroom window; his hands were cupped around his eyes.

"You've gotta be shitting me?" Bella whispered. "I leave Detroit for _this_?" She pulled her earbuds free of her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"Police, ambulance or fire?" a husky voice said.

"Police." She watched as the man moved around to the back of the house.

The line clicked once and a new voice, a woman, calm and even said, "What's the nature of your emergency?"

"Yeah, there's some creeper peeping in my windows." Bella took a cautious step forward and then back again, an odd mix of annoyance and fear washed over her.

"Alright, stay where you are, and stay calm," the operator instructed.

Bella rattled off her address—the act leveling her heart rate—and kept her eyes glued on her house. The operator told her to call back if the man made any attempt to enter the house. She held her phone tight, shifting from one leg to the other.

Seconds later, Creeper emerged from the far end of her home and sauntered across the the narrow lane. Mentally, she took note of his approximate height and build. Shock dropped her jaw when the man ambled up to the house across the street, and walked right through the fucking door of 17 Kissling Lane.

 _Mystery solved, a creepy fucking peeping-tom lives across the lane. Great._

Less than a minute later, the county police rolled to a stop in front of Bella's home and she met him at the curb.

"Officer Riley Biers," he said, short and official sounding. "Got a call 'bout a peeping-tom." He held out his hand to shake Bella's.

"He lives across the street. Seventeen," she said, pointing to the house with drawn curtains and the mostly unused car.

"Have you had trouble with him before, Ma'am?"

"Nope. He's lived there for about a year now, and this is the first I've even seen of him."

Officer Biers still had his shades on, even though the sun was about to dip out of sight for the night. He looked over his shoulder at the house and said, "Go on inside, Miss … ?"

"Swan," she replied, taking a few backward steps toward her house.

"Go on inside, Miss Swan, while I talk to your neighborhood friendly." He pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose.

Bella shucked her backpack and collapsed on the first step. The cold concrete sent a chill up her spine. She watched Officer Biers knock on the metal frame and take a step back. Creeper opened the door, and Bella squinted to make out his features.

There were a few hand gestures and finally Officer Shades backed away from the door and made his way back. One hand on the wrought iron handrail, he said, "I think you should come on over there with me, Miss Swan." He pitched his thumb over his shoulder, pointing in the general direction of the Creeper of Kissling Lane. "You need to hear what Mr. Cullen has to say."

"Right, so he can ogle my goodies up close. Not likely," she said, crossing her arms over chest and pursing her lips.

Shades pulled his useless sunglasses down, peeking at her over the rims. He gave her a cursory once over, his gaze hanging on to her chest for a few seconds longer than necessary and shrugged. "I doubt that."

Bella's lip curled and she scoffed. Sweat damp hair, pulled back in a messy, smelly bun, boobs trapped beneath a sports bra … yeah she'd give him that one.

"Alright then, let's go talk to _Mr. Cullen_." She pronounced his name like a four letter word and pushed up off the stair.

"You're gonna wanna paint that porch," Officer Biers commented. "Paints chippin'."

"Noted."

As they approached the home, Bella pulled at the hem of her shirt and straightened her spine.

Shades snickered under his breath and shook his head.

 _Oh, eat it, Chips!_

The man standing in the door did _not_ fit the bill of budding sex offender. No squirrely eyes or wrinkled, stained button down. No disheveled mop-top. A little stubble, the sexy five o'clock shadow kind, not the I-haven't-taken-my-meds-in-three-days kind.

He looked to be a little over six feet, in his mid-thirties, if she had to guess. His build was thoroughly average and there was nothing ill-boding about him … except his eyes. His eyes—a dark green, maybe blue—scanned the length of her body. There was nothing wanton about it. Quite the opposite; he surveyed the woman as if she were a matter of inventory, which was a tad unnerving. Bella's feet danced in a nervous two-step, and when his eyes caught on the movement, he chuckled.

 _No way! Skeevie perv-man is hot!_

He pushed the glass storm door open and extended his hand. "Edward Cullen." His voice was smooth and there was most certainly an accent.

She gripped his hand, opening her suddenly dry mouth to spit her name out, snapping it shut again when Edward Cullen let out a whistle. Not a 'how you doin' kind of sound, but more … bird like. _Odd,_ she thought, but quickly dismissed it and introduced herself in a somewhat snarky tone. Snark ran through her veins just as surely as A-positive blood did.

"Mr. Cullen, would you mind telling Miss Swan why you were peering through the windows of her home tonight?" Officer Biers stood with his hands on his hips, thumbs hooked through his belt loops. He looked like something out of a 70s cop drama.

"Of course," Edward said, politely. He shifted, standing more fully. "I was bringing my groceries in, and I noticed a man across the way." He jerked his chin in the direction of Bella's house and whistled … again. "He was checking the locks. The windows. Looked … wrong. He buggered off when I called out to him."

She should have said thank you and been grateful that a concerned neighbor was brave enough to speak up, but what came tumbling out of her mouth was far from a thank you.

"So someone, maybe a friend, shows up and you chase them off? Who the fuck are you, the Neighborhood Watch?" Bella barked, feeling irrationally perturbed by his actions.

Shades stepped forward, face all serious and full of no nonsense. "Now, Miss Swan—"

Edward took a fast step toward Bella and put his hand up, effectively shutting out Officer Biers.

In a voice that was low, clear and held the edge of a command, he said, "A man, one I've never seen in this neighborhood, was creeping around the home of a single woman. My gut told me he was trouble. I don't know about you, Miss Swan—"

"Bella! It's just … Bella," she half shouted, her face flushing with embarrassment and maybe a dash of anger. "Why were you looking in my windows?" Her voice lost some of its kick when she looked up at him.

Edward blinked and amusement passed over his face.

"Bella. My apologies. I knocked a few times. When you didn't answer, I went around the house. No open or broken windows. Nothing left behind, that I could see. And, thankfully, no pretty brunette lying facedown in a pool of blood in her living room. I assure you, Bella, my curiosity was simply fueled by my concern. Nothing more."

It was Bella's turn to blink. "I, um, I'm sorry. I'm, well, I'm an asshole," she admitted with a shrug. "Thank you."

"Mr. Cullen, did you get a good look at him? His car perhaps?" Officer Biers asked, whipping out a small, black, standard issue note pad.

"Tall. Caucasian. Jeans and a white shirt. Wore a ball cap, but I'm not sure what was on the cap. Took off up the street to a car parked about half way up the block. Navy. Maybe an older model Buick. Can't be sure." He crossed his arms over his chest again, and leaned back against the door. He spoke to the officer, but his eyes stayed on Bella's face.

Suddenly, he inhaled, producing a sound much like a hiccup. He did this three or four times. Bella's head tipped and her gaze took on a look of scrutiny, while his eyes shifted to the officer. She watched him, really watched him, as he offered his personal information to the officer. The fingers of his left hand fluttered and Bella thought, _spirit fingers_.

"Stupid whore," Edward said, pushing the words out loudly.

"Pardon me!"

"I'm sorry that wasn't—" He whistled again and his fingers moved faster.

Right then, Bella had a ah-huh moment. "Tourette's syndrome," she said in a softer voice.

"Yes. Things often come flying from my mouth unbidden." He looked from Officer Shades, who was still wearing his ridiculous specs, to Bella. Bella simply nodded and offered a friendly smile, getting back to the questions the police officer was firing off.

 _Know anyone that fits that description?_

 _Any reason for someone to be sulking around like that?_

 _Having any problems with any family or coworkers?_

Suggesting that she look into a security system, Officer Biers handed Bella the card of a local company and helpfully suggested that she give them a call this evening, to which she nodded. "Do you feel safe enough to be at home tonight, Miss Swan?" Officer Biers asked, pulling his stupid shades down again to look at her.

"Yes. I'm sure it's fine. You can pack it in, Officer Chips."

Edward's lips twitched, battling a grin.

"Its Biers, ma'am," he said without a hint of amusement. He turned to Edward, pushing the bridge of his sunglasses, fixing them back into place. "Well, if everything is good here, I'll be on my way. You have a good evening, Sir." Edward offered him a firm handshake, and they watched Officer Biers climb into his cruiser and pull away.

"He's ridiculous." Bella burst out laughing.

"Aw, come on, he's just _really_ enthusiastic about his job." Each word he uttered bounced on a snicker. When the moment passed, he flashed Bella a small smile and apologized for scaring her. "That must have looked—"

"Creepy as fuck," she finished, eyes wide. "Yeah. And thank you. I … kind of chewed your head off. That was—"

"Bitchy?" Edward offered, a smug smile firmly stitched in place. "You sure you're okay?" His voice grew soft with a genuine concern for the girl across the street.

Looking over her shoulder at her house, she nodded. "Yeah. No worries."

Edward whistled again, and his back straightened as he took a half step back, as if retreating. "Good night, Bella."

The blinds came down with a thwacking sound.

Moving from one room to the next, the small brunette pulled curtains and tugged on cords, sending white plastic blinds cascading down. She checked each window, and jiggled the locks on the front and back door. When she was satisfied, she marched to the bathroom and stripped off her sweaty clothes.

As the bathtub filled with hot water, steam rose and curled in the air above the old claw-foot. The mirror began to fog; Bella leaned over the sink, extended her index finger and wrote:

 **S A M**

"The hermit has a name." Bella tossed her purse behind the front desk and handed Angela a large, black coffee, pulling the lid off her own and unloading an unhealthy amount of sugar into it. Bella always ordered her coffee black, secretly piling it with six packs of sugar, lest she be judged by some coffee-slinging college student.

Watching the sugar disappear into Bella's cup, Angela asked, "Who?"

"The mystery neighbor across the street. No longer a mystery. His name is Edward. Edward is hot. And very non-creepy."

Angela reached under the desk, pushing the button on the front of the computer, listening as it whirred to life. "Did you expect creepy?"

Stirring the sugar/coffee concoction, Bella launched into the events that led to her meeting Mr. Edward Cullen from 17 Kissling Lane.

"So, hot, non-creepy neighbor aside, doesn't it freak you out a little that _someone_ was poking around your house like that?" Angela spun in her chair, stood and rounded the corner. Pulling files from the shelves, she called out, "I mean, I'd be freaked, Bells."

"Security company is coming tomorrow."

Angela's head peeked around the corner, her brows furrowed behind her orange rimmed glasses. "That's not what I asked, Isabella Marie." Angela's mom game was showing.

"Yeah, it was … kind of scary." She shrugged and glopped down a mouthful of coffee, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Did you call your dad?"

"On a Friday night?" she snorted, "On a _fight_ night? Better chance of him skinny dipping in the Detroit river in February, than answering a phone"

"Saturday and Sunday?" Bella heard the eye roll in her friend's voice, and stuck her tongue out in Angela's general direction.

"It's no big deal, Ang. It was probably some high school kid. Edward scared him off," she mumbled. The shrug she gave was a false show of nonchalance.

Ang reappeared with four files in her hand. "Lucky."

"Alright, enough, _Mom_ ," Bella whined and flung an empty sugar packet at her co-worker. "Who's up first?"

"Karen Ellis." She handed the file over to Bella. "Check up, no complaints." Smiling, Bella took the proffered file and danced out of the lobby.

Karen was a spirited septuagenarian, with a silver tongue, always ready with a colorful anecdote about her family. Bella thoroughly enjoyed their chats; she'd reminded her of her Aunt Christina, honest with a healthy side of nuts.

Taking her gloves off and turning to the sullen teen in the chair, she reminded him to rinse his retainer every time he removed it, and to please, for the shake of his father's wallet, stop chewing bubble gum. The kid blushed and nodded, but didn't say a word.

"Good, now get out of my chair, Kyle," she said with a smile.

Kyle pulled himself upright and stammered, "See ya, Miss, uh, Bella."

As she waved him out the door and scribbled a few notes in his chart, her stomach let loose a mighty rumble. "Well, alright then." She closed the file and went in search of her co-workers.

"Go, feed your faces," Eric insisted, throwing a twenty dollar bill on his desk. "Just bring me back something horribly fattening."

Bella and Angela exchanged knowing looks. "You and Mike fight?" Bella inquired, her voice softening.

"No. Yes. I have no idea. We'll chalk it up to a difference of opinions." He bowed his head, looking over a chart. "Ya know, I think this kid needs surgery. Look at this," Eric said, standing up and slapping an x-ray on a light board and flipping the switch.

Bella walked over, inspecting the picture with careful eyes. "Is that a growth?"

"Yeah. Poor girl. Angela, when you return, could you call in the referral to Dr. Shelby?"

"Absolutely," Angela answered.

"Good. Now go on, leave me to my apologies." He waved them from the room, handing Bella the money.

Angela switched off the computer monitor while Bella flipped the sign, indicating the office would be closed for the next hour.

"I'll drive," Angela offered, jingling her keys. Her very new keys to her very, very shiny cherry red Kia. She'd been saving for a new car for the better part of a year now, and was more than happy to peddle her friend around.

"Don't mind if you do. Hubby's sound good?" Hubby's was a small, family owned pub that served up—in Bella's opinion—the best deep fried pickles she'd ever tasted.

"Mmm, pickles," Angela murmured in delight.

As the two climbed into the car, Bella stopped, hand gripping the open door. Her eyes followed a midnight blue Ford Fusion. A popular car in a popular color, and by all accounts utterly forgettable … accept the licence plate.

Bella's jaw clenched and her body pulled tight, a solid pit building in her gut, as she watched the car turn a corner and disappear.

Angela slipped into the driver's' seat and wiggled her butt; she inhaled the new-car smell, and a pleased little smile grew and died as she turned to her friend. "Bella?" Angela said, her voice soft, but concerned.

Bella slowly sat back and shut the door. Her brain whirled and spun, kicking out questions and offering up a host of terrible scenarios. "God damn it," she muttered. She turned to Angela, tears stacking in her eyes, "That was his car."

Needing no further explanation, Angela, nodded and put the car in drive, her teeth set on edge and her knuckles turning a deathly white. "Call Eric. Tell him we'll be a tad late with that Hubby's burger." She eased the car out of the parking lot, and rather than turning left, toward Hubby's Pub, she made a quick right toward State street. Before Bella could protest, Angela reached into her own pocket and pulled out her phone.

When the office voicemail engaged, she said, "Hey, it's Ang. We'll be late. And yes, it's an emergency," and hung up, placing the phone on a small stack of coins collecting in the console.

Hesitant feet took Bella through the front doors of the Harbor City Police Station. It was a small brick building that housed exactly four officers, one receptionist, and, at present, two drunks in the tank.

"Afternoon, darlin'," a round-faced woman greeted.

Bella looked around the station, took a deep breath and said, "My ex-boyfriend … he's here. He found me."

The receptionist's voice went from friendly to all business. "Come sit over here with me. I need a little information, Miss …?"

"Swan." She looked over her shoulder at her friend, and gave her a soft smile. "Go get your lunch," she insisted, moving around the desk. "Bring me back some pickles and a Greek salad." Bella reached into her wallet and pulled out the twenty dollar bill Eric had handed her, added her own, and offered it at Angela.

Angela snatched a single bill and tucked into her scrub pocket. When Bella waved the remaining bill at her, she shook her dark brown head. "Bullshit. You get what you need done, and I'll pick up the grub. My treat." Without another word, Angela sauntered out the front door, her new keys darlings off her finger.

Bella turned back to the friendly receptionist, who was ready with a pen and paper. "Have a seat, hon. You want a coffee or somethin'?" When Bella shook her head, she nodded once, and positioned the black pen on the note pad. "Just some basic information first. Name, address, date of birth."

"Isabella Marie Swan. I live at 14 Kissling lane. I was born September 13th, 1990 … in Detroit." In the hour that followed, Bella recounted her three-year relationship with Sam Uley, the beautiful bronzed boy that swept her off her feet, and then kicked them out from under her. She told Elma, the kind receptionist, how she'd fled in the middle of the night while Sam worked the third shift at a bottling plant, changing her number and moving clear across the city.

"Wasn't even months before he found me," Bella stammered, picking at the delicate skin around her fingernails. "He sat in the hall outside my apartment and waited for me." Her brown eyes flipped upward, meeting Elma's wise and washed out blues. "He broke two ribs."

She explained that he was charged with aggravated assault and served less than one year. Bella pulled out the old copy of the personal protection order she had filed weeks before Sam had been released. That piece of paper was like a security blanket a child might tote around with them. "I moved almost three hours away from Detroit, changed my number, my service provider. I bought a new god damned car, new plates. I use a fucking PO Box! How in the red hell did he find me?!" She was nearly shouting, and her hands shook.

Elma put her pen down and took Bella's hands in hers. "We can apply for a new protection order. That'll take 'bout twenty-four hours." Elma's voice was apologetic, soft. "This is a small city, Miss Swan, we'll flush him out and send him packing." The older woman winked and released her hands.

Bella nodded, comforted, if only in the smallest of ways by the receptionist words.

A familiar voice pipped up behind her. "Miss Swan?"

Bella turned in her seat, the old vinyl cushion sounding off as she twisted her body. "Officer Chips," she said with a smile. Next to her, Elma snickered and Bella knew she hadn't been the first to draw that association.

"Riley. It's Officer Riley Biers, Ma'am." He looked a tad annoyed as he moved to stand next to Elma. The comment only served to widen the grin on Bella's face. "What brings you here today?" He took the notes Elma scribbled, giving them a quick glance. He placed the pages back down on the tabletop and sighed. "This our peeping-Tom, Miss Swan?"

The grin crashed and burned. "Pretty likely."

"And why didn't you mention him when I asked about any possible suspects?"

The brunette blinked and straightened her back. She injected her words with steel, but somewhere deep inside, she always knew she'd be having this conversation."I didn't want to believe he'd found me again." Her teeth pushed into the soft tissue of her bottom lip.

"I've got this, Elma." He smiled fondly at the receptionist, scooping the pages off the tabletop and motioning for Bella to follow him into one of only three offices in the building. "Let's get this order taken care of, shall we?" Pulling out a chair, he looked over at Bella.

Signing the last page, she let go of a heavy sigh, hungry and oddly exhausted. "I'm a smart person, Riley," she declared in a quiet voice. "I'm not the girl that calls to trouble. I didn't have some rotten childhood that left me looking for love in all the wrong places. My father's an amazing man; no daddy issues here. I'm not the girl that _needs_ a man to make her feel whole. I'm the girl that can't seem to dodge the assholes regardless of what I do. They find me."

Officer Biers snorted. "We'll get ya a shirt: "Assholes need not apply. Quota filled." He pushed back in his chair, taking on a more casual posture. "I'm sure someone's fed you this line before, Bella, but it's not your fault. Dicks like Sam grow like weeds. Nobody _wants_ weeds, but the pesky bastards seem to find a way."

"Thank you, Officer. Listen, I'm sorry for the Chips comments." Her eyes shifted left and right and she shrugged her slight shoulders. "Kinda rude."

Leaning forward, the officer with dirty blond hair and a baby face rested his forearms on the desk. "I'd be lying if I said it was the first time I'd heard it." His face was stone. Unreadable. Slowly, he reached into the drawer of the cherrywood desk, lifted a pair of sunglasses, and with a lopsided grin, he pushed them into place.

Laughter rolled out of Bella like waves, one giggle crashing into the next.

"You want a little advice, Miss Swan? Get a dog. A big one. People think twice about messing with someone when their loyal companion has a mouthful of sharp teeth and no compunctions about usin' them."

"I'll add that to my shopping list."

Leaning forward, glasses still in place, he suggested that Bella have someone stay with her, or better still, she stay with a friend at least until the protection order could be served.

From the doorway, Angela piped up. "You're welcome to stay with Seth and I. The boys love having you there." In her hands were two brown takeout bags that smelled like deep fried heaven.

 _I bet,_ Bella thought.

Angela and her husband had two rowdy boys, aged four and two. They were messy, loud and snot-soaked children that loved to climb all over Bella and share their half-eaten treats with just about anyone that was fool enough to take them. Bella learned that lesson the hard way.

Memories of stitches, bruises and shouted words washed over her, and though she loathed the idea of tucking her tail between her legs and hiding, she couldn't deny that it was the smart play. She agreed, on the condition that pizza was on her tonight … and Tallulah the guinea pig be padlocked and placed as far from anywhere Bella was as possible. Tallulah was the devil's consort as far as Bella was concerned.

"Perfect," Officer Biers said. "I'd suggest you speak to Mr. Cullen again, as well. Helps to have a neighbor keeping an eye out."

"Oh, the hottie from across the street. I like where this is going," Angela jabbered.

Bella rolled her eyes and stood, extending a hand to the officer. "Thank you. Again."

Standing, he hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, grinned a wide, cheesy grin and said, "All in a days work, miss," and tipped his head.

"You're ridiculous. Don't ever change."

"Tomorrow we're heading over to the pound," Angela announced as she tucked a blue _Ice Age_ sheet over the corner of a seldom-used twin bed.

"Big dog." Bella nodded. "Preferably with some anger issues to work out," she joked. She grinned hearing Richard Dreyfus' voice saying, "Chopper, sic balls."

"Soooo, Officer Riley … kinda cute. Definitely has a thing for you." Angela's voice was pitched high and heavy on the school-girl.

"Married."

"What? No."

Bella smoothed a red comforter over the bed. "Ring," she said pointing to her ring finger.

"Well, shit."

From the hall the voice of Angela's husband, Seth boomed, "Streaker on the run!" Followed by a series of small giggles.

A tiny hand tugged on Bella's wrist, and she looked down at the naked, dripping two-year old. "I have wiener," he announced proudly.

"That's awesome, bud." Bella laughed, giving the kid a high-five.

"Ah-ha," Seth exclaimed, entering the room and scooping the dripping bundle into his arms. "Should have known you'd come to torment Aunt Bells." Seth was tall and well built, with broad shoulders, and dark head of hair, just like his sons. "Apologize to Aunt Bella for the gratuitous nudity, and say good night, Owen."

The toddler mumbled his goodnight and when Bella leaned in for the kiss he requested, he blew a sloppy raspberry across her cheek. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she said, "And _that_ is why I take birth control."

Seth laughed. "Night, Bells." He took his son's small wrist and gently manipulated it, waving. He turned and vanished, presumably to find the kid's clothes.

"Night."

Angela just shook her head, watching her husband corral the squirming child from the room. "Don't have boys," she said warmly. "What time is the security company due tomorrow?"

"Three." Bella threw herself down on the bed and heaved a sigh.

"Short day tomorrow. Right?" Short days were common in a small town with three dental offices. "Then we'll go to the pound when the security guys are done at your place. I think they're open 'til six tomorrow."

"Sounds good. Now get out. I wanna strip these paint-snot splattered jeans off and go to bed."

"Turning in before the toddler. Sad." Angela's voice was mocking.

"Shit for sleep last night," Bella admitted, looking up and over at her friend.

She nodded once and laid a soft hand on Bella's for a quick moment before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her. "Ah, come on, kid! There's puddles all up and down this hallway," she heard Angela whine.

She pulled her jeans off first, smiling and shaking her head at the neon paint artfully splattered all over the front of her jeans. Owen and Christopher—affectionately referred to as Christi— insisted she paint with them. It'll be fun, they said; they just neglected to mention the messy part.

After cleaning up, she neatly folded and tucked her things back into the overnight bag she brought with her. She grabbed her Kindle, fired it up, and stretched out on the small bed. It wasn't long before the letters began to swim and her eyes fluttered, heavy and fighting the urge to slip shut.

Bella switched off the device, turned out the lights and tucked herself under the covers.

A shrill sound split the silence. Slowly, Bella came to the realization that the sound was her cell phone perched on the nightstand next to the bed. Blindly she reached for it, smacking her hand on the corner of the table. She cursed and groaned and groped around in the dark. When her hand grazed the cold, hard, vibrating cell phone she turned over and brought the phone to her face, sweeping her thumb over the screen.

"Yeah," she answered in a sleep-soaked voice, her eyes tightly closed against the bright blue glow the phone gave off.

"Not far enough, Isabella, baby."

Ice pushed through her veins, waking her with a sudden alertness. Her eyes widened and she sat up, the old bed springs protesting.

"How did you get this number?"

"Oh, we both knew it was only a matter of time, pretty girl." Sam's voice was smooth and menacing, and it wasn't difficult for Bella to picture the smug smile that surely graced his face.

Her nerves jangled and her heart thumped against her ribs. Clutching the edge of the comforter, Bella pulled it up higher, some need to hide taking over.

"You knew I'd find you. I always do. Close my eyes and I still see you there, dancing in that little blue dress." His voice was far away, caught in a memory before the blue dress was replaced by blue bruises and bloodshot cried-out eyes.

"Stop!" she shouted. "Just stop it! Go back to Detroit, Sam, and forget about me. Stop looking for me, stop calling, stop creeping around my fucking house!" The words sounded so brave and strong in her head, but as they tumbled out, she heard the fear hiding between the syllables.

A low chuckle drifted down the line and then the soft sound of static hummed in Bella's ear. Blinking, Bella pulled the phone away and looked down at the display: Unknown Number. Standing up, the brunette shook the sound of his voice from her head and crossed the room, turning on the lights. As she dialed the Harbour Beach Police Station, she paced the floor of the guest room, her teeth raking over her bottom lip.

"Harbour Beach Police Services, Deputy Jane Hallett, what can I do for you?"

Exhaling a shaky breath, she told Deputy Jane about the phone call and the protection order she'd filed with Officer Biers. Deputy Hallett sounded like a fourteen year old, but her voice was steady and confident. "Where are you now, Miss Swan?"

"My friend Angela's house."

"Good. That's good. Get some rest, Miss Swan. I know, easier said than done. A little whiskey always helps me along," she admitted in a light tone. "I'll swing by around eight and take a statement from you. No point in waking the whole house at this hour."

The thought of Christi and Owen waking at four in the morning made Bella cringe. "Eight o'clock is fine."

Easier said than done indeed. Bella sat cross-legged beside the bed, the comforter pulled from the mattress and wrapped around her. She stared at the her phone, waiting for it to ring again. Expecting to hear his voice again; hear the taunting laughter, but it remained silent.

Pale blue light sneaked between the curtains in the guest room. The house was still, the hum of the central air pushed through the vents, fluttering the curtains. Bella shrugged out of her cocoon and stood. She changed into the scrubs she'd brought with her, navy with pink ribbons decorating the top. She pulled her hair back into a loose pony and brushed her teeth. Looking perfectly exhausted—a lovely shade of violet coloring the bags under her eyes—she hauled her tired body down the stairs and rummaged through the cupboards in the kitchen in search of coffee.

"You and me are going to be good friends today," she said, tapping the Folgers can she found hiding behind a box of Captain Crunch—the original stuff, not the gross shit with the berries.

Coffee brewing, she sat at the kitchen table, munching on handfuls of dry cereal and leafing through a book about a kid named Mortimer. Mortimer sounded like a pain in the ass.

"Whatcha' doin' up so early, Bells?" Seth asked, pulling Bella away from her riveting read.

"Sam called last night." Her voice was weary.

Mid-reach, Seth stopped and turned away from the counter, abandoning the coffee mug. "Shit," he hissed. "How'd he get your number?"

"That's what I'd like to know. Deputy Jane … something-or-other will be here at eight."

His face was hard, jaw clenched. A hint of anger touched his eyes. "I'll drive you and Ang to work."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll be fine," Bella insisted, not wanting to inconvenience her friend.

"I'll drive," he said, leveling Bella with stern look.

Sighing, she conceded.

"So is there any sugar left, or should I make a run to the store before I pour myself a cup?" Seth turned away, finding a mug with tiny colorful handprints all over it.

"Ha. Ha."

When the doorbell rang, two dark-haired children made a run for it, excitedly giggling. One sporting the cutest pair of suspenders Bella had ever seen, the other refusing to wear pants. Angela chased a half naked Owen to the door, throwing her arms in the air when he dodged her and tore down the hall in the other direction. "He's all yours, babe!" Heaving a sigh, she opened the door and greeted the deputy.

"It's absolute chaos in here, come on in." Angela swung the door open wide, welcoming the petite woman. She couldn't be more than five-feet tall, with long mousy-brown hair twisted into a bun. She was milky white and her eyes were a startling blue. The uniform she wore was not kind to her.

Angela directed her to the kitchen where Bella was washing the last of the breakfast dishes. Drying her hands first, she shook the deputy's hand and offered her a cup of coffee. Bella was on her third. Angela ducked out, giving her friend what little privacy she could offer.

The soft-spoken deputy asked Bella a few questions, scribbled in her little black pad, and assured her they'd find him. "It's a small city," she said. Somewhere in the house a two-year old chanted "No pants, no pants" and Christi was looking out the window admiring the police vehicle parked in the driveway.

"I called Eric, gave him the rundown," Angela announced, re-entering the kitchen, a pair of pint-sized cord shorts slung over her right shoulder. Clearly Owen had won this round. "He cancelled our appointments today. Said something about having a camera installed in the parking lot."

When Bella began to protest, she added, "Oh, and he called Sam a dirty snot-fucker. Not sure what that all means, but I like it."

The two thanked Deputy Hallett and walked her to the door, promising to call should he contact her again.

The door closed with a rusty click, and Angela turned to Bella. "Let's get you a big ol' dog."

Jetta, a two-year old red Siberian Husky, happily jumped into the back of Bella's car, sniffed around a then lay down across the backseat, her tail gently wagging.

"Alright, let's get you home, Miss Jetta." Bella closed the door as her friend loaded the dog supplies into the trunk. She looked at the packed truck and thought maybe, _maybe_ she'd gone a little overboard. Maybe.

Buckling her seat belt, Angela twisted in the seat, looking back at the dog. "Lucky girl, she doesn't even spend that kind of money on her own clothes."

Definitely went overboard.

As they pulled into Bella's driveway, Jetta popped up, looking around.

"Welcome home," Bella said, looking at the dog in the rearview mirror. The three of them piled out, Jetta jumping and turning in circles.

"Go ahead, bring her inside and I'll start in on this." Angela waved a hand at the truck and then shooed her away.

Inside, Jetta darted from one room to the next, nose to the ground; Bella followed with a funny smile on her face. "Alright, you explore, I'm gonna go help Auntie Angela with all your shit. Oh, and please don't pee in the house, okay?" Jetta jogged over to her, licked her hand and then went right back to sniffing out her new home.

From the back room, Bella heard Angela talking to someone and her feet moved faster, her pulse quickening.

"… And the dog wanted an … orthopedic bed?"

"Of course," she heard Angela answer.

Rounding the corner, a breath trapped in her lungs pushed its way out and she smiled wide at Edward, who was poking Jetta's new doggie bed, giving it a curious look.

"Hey, Seventeen." Stopping in the doorway of the living room, Bella gave a little wave, relieved to see her neighbor's eyes smiling up at her, and not the brown-black of Sam's.

Grinning wider, Edward answered, "Hey, Fourteen. I, uh, saw your friend …?"

"Angela."

"… Angela here, and thought I'd offer a little help." Edward pushed his hand through his hair. In the light of day it was a deep copper, and his eyes were most definitely green. Deep as a forest.

Her mouth went dry and she licked at her lips. The shadows and shades of the early evening had hidden away some of his features. Her eyes traced his jawline and took in the subtle muscles of his upper arms. She licked her lips again.

A cold, wet nudge on her left hand pulled her eyes away from the slope of his neck. She jumped at the foreign feeling. Bella's gaze landed on the Husky. "This is Jetta," she introduced.

Jetta zoomed around them, weaving, tail bobbing. Edward crouched down and cupped the dog's fluffy face in his hands. "Hey Jetta, nice to meet you." A whistle escaped him, and Jetta's head cocked, looking at the man. Not bothering with propriety, Jetta licked Edward's face and then trotted away.

"Thanks for the lovin', Jetta." He stood, catching Bella's eyes. His hand fluttered at his side like a rapid heart beat. "Listen, though I was glad to help, I wanted to talk to you." Letting loose a short string of colorful curses, he stepped closer to Bella, his voice dropping to a pitch laden with concern. His hand pulled through his hair again.

She'd heard it before and recognized it. Unknowingly, she took a step toward him.

"There was a car parked outside of your house last night. It wasn't the same one, though." He whistled again in that bird-like way. "Was red. I saw it pull up and park around one this morning. Didn't think much of it … but I … it felt off."

Bella and Angela exchanged bothered glances.

Sighing a shaky breath, Bella asked, "Your gut?"

"Yeah. My gut. Fuck, I should have called Officer What's-his-nuts!"

A flash of green and purple bruises across her cheek bones. A glimpse of ruby blood trickling from nose. Bella's eyes watered and she blinked, clearing the tears.

"I'm calling Seth. He can sleep on the couch." The tone in Angela's voice made it clear she wasn't planning on running that by her friend. "And call your goddamn father, Bells! He needs to know Sam's been sniffing at your door again."

Until that moment, Edward stood quietly, watching the exchange. "Who's Sam? Is he dangerous?"

With a heavy sigh, Bella invited Edward into the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. As she moved around the tiny room, looking for places to stash the ridiculous amount of dog treats she bought, she told him her story.

She fell in love with a beautiful boy with dark hair and dark eyes; eyes that gave the word mischief a reason for being. He had a wild streak and a passion for her so intense, it sometimes frightened her. She fell for a boy that held her close and pushed everyone else away. They lived in a bubble, just big enough for the two of them.

The bubble popped, and what seemed whirlwind and exciting became terrifying. She'd found herself alone, without a friend to lean on. No one to show her bruises to, no one to take her shaking hands and tell her it would be okay. No one to save her from the thing Sam had become.

The smell of coffee permeated the air, deep and rich. She inhaled. It smelled like comfort to her. It reminded her of her father, and brought her back to a small kitchen much like the one she stood in now. One that was safe and inviting.

In a route, vacant way, Bella filled three mugs, setting them down and turning to the window above the sink. In the yard, Angela ran back and forth with the dog, laughing at the dog's antics.

"I'm sorry, Bella. His apology was whispered. "That … I'm sorry." Lost for better, more helpful words, Edward looked up at the girl leaning against the counter. His eyes were sad.

Carrying a tin canister over to the table, she sat down and pried the rusting lid off with a grunt. She placed it in the middle of the table, picked up a tablespoon and scooped out a heap of sugar. "Thank you, I think. Is that the right sentiment for something like this? I don't even know." She shook her head and tipped a second large spoonful of sugar into her mug.

Watching her go in for a third scoop, he guessed, "So that's why you got the dog?"

"Yup. And the security system that should be here any minute."

"Good." Edward nodded and a few strands of hair flopped around.

 _His hair is an unholy mess,_ she thought.

"I'm going to give you my cell," he announced in a matter-of-fact way, but Bella easily picked up the nervousness that rattled the words. Pulling his cell phone out his pocket, he loudly suggested a poor farm animal do something rather impossible. He apologized quickly, an embarrassed blush creeping up his lovely cheeks.

 _Lovely? Really? Since when did you think cheeks were lovely?_ Bella grimaced at the thought and went right back to staring at those perfect, high cheekbones. Edward's tick barely registered with her. It was background noise.

"Or not," Edward said, seeing the strange grimace on her face.

"What?"

"Your face says 'No thanks'."

"Shit, no. I want it. I just … You have great cheekbones and I was just thinking how weird it was that I was thinking about your cheekbones. Like who the fuck thinks cheekbones are great? Right?" She stopped rambling when a slow smirk bloomed on Edward's face. "Give me your phone, Seventeen." He held her hand out and wriggled her fingers.

Quickly, she typed in her number and saved it under Fourteen. Taking the liberty, she also sent herself a text. "There." Bella handed him the phone and watched a beaming, mega-watt grin crack as he read the text she sent to her phone.

 **Fourteen, great ass, but she's got nothing on these cheekbones.**

"I could stay," he said, a little uncertain.

Bella took sip of her coffee and decided it needed one more helping of sugar. Edward watched, shaking his head as the fine powder disappeared into her cup.

"I mean, I live right across the street. I can bring my laptop over, get some work 's really no big deal. It'd be nice to have the company," he added.

"It would save Seth the trip back and forth," Angela chimed in, as the backdoor bounced off the metal frame behind her. She winked at Bella, not bothering to hide the smugness.

"You, shut your hole," Bella advised, pointing a finger.

Angela chuckled and shouted over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall toward the bathroom, "She called you 'hot', Edward."

It was Bella's turn to blush.

" _Hot_ , huh? And you like my cheekbones," he teased, raising his mug to his lips. It didn't hide the smile.

"I'm not above kicking you out, dude."

Snickering, he put his mug down and stood. For a second she looked shocked, and then he said, "I'll just go get my laptop."

Bella didn't say a word, just nodded her acceptance

Thanks for reading, see you in the next chapter!

~MissJanuary


	2. Chapter 2

**The conclusion to chapter 1 of Kissling Lane.**

 **Beta'ed by the delightful Cejsmommy and LynseyLee.**

 **Same warnings apply. See you at the bottom.**

"If you don't answer the phone or provide the correct password, the police are dispatched," Thomas, the big blond security tech said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and jangled his keys.

"And I just hit 'arm' to turn it on." Bella tapped the new panel.

"Yeah." Thomas rocked on his heels, his keys jingled again.

"Great."

Signing her first born over to Hamlin Home Security, she said goodbye to Thomas and locked her door, arming the new system.

Jetta trotted into the living room. "Between you and that damn system, it's been an expensive day, girl. Maybe it's time to ask for that raise," Bella said to the dog. She flopped down on the cream colored sofa, sinking into it's worn cushions.

"Everything's a money grab," Edward said, scanning the screen in front of him.

"Whatcha workin' on?" the brunette's gaze shifted to the man sitting on her love seat.

"Policies. Dry as hell."

"What do you do?" Bella inquired, trying to sit up a little more, but the couch had sucked her in.

"I'm a healthcare consultant. I help hospitals and healthcare organizations get their shit together. Lots of boring crap like policies and procedures. Standards of practice," he explained.

Bella patted the space beside her and Jetta happily hopped up. "Do you like it?"

"I'm good at it," he conceded, but it didn't sound like a yes to Bella. He closed the laptop and raised his face to meet his neighbor's gaze. "My tics scare people. Scary people don't make good doctors." As if to prove a point, a string of expletives pushed their way out of his mouth.

Bella wasn't sure how to respond. She could understand how the syndrome might be a deterrent in a medical career, mostly because people, were judgemental crack-holes that wouldn't be able to move past the hiccup-sound, the whistling, the jazz hand, and certainly not the swearing. That thought bothered her.

"Well, you dodged a bullet, really. No bad news meetings with families, no horrible cafeteria food, and no vomit on your shoes at the end of the day." The girl smiled, but it was a weak offering.

He chuckled. "There would have been a lot of vomit. And bad news. Pediatric oncology was what I was specializing in."

"You went to med school?"

"For three years. Then a parent chewed me out. Said 'people like me shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine. After I'd heard that for the fourth time, I started to agree. Changed courses to healthcare management and that was that."

The conversation went on as the sun dipped out of sight and the summer air cooled. Edward told her about the ruthless playground he grew up on and the way the kids would tease him. They were cruel and merciless. According to Edward, his symptoms were never more out of control then during his high school years.

"Oh," Bella groaned. "That must have been awful." Suddenly. the clichè and utterly unoriginal Bugs Bunny taunts she sometimes heard growing up seemed stupid in comparison.

Offering Edward a beer and plunking down on the small loveseat next to him, they talked about their parents. Both were children of divorce. Edward's parents were both still alive, his father living in Ohio, remarried and retired. His mother was still in Harbour Beach, running a successful greenhouse just outside the city.

Twisting the top of the cold beer in her hand, Bella smiled. "My dad, Charlie, scary looking motherfucker." She chuckled thinking about her father. "He wears a suit for work, but the tats on his neck and hands peek out." She gushed about the burly biker-dad who drove a sedan to work each day, but his preferred mode of transportation was a Harley. Hauling out a photo album, showing her new friend the picture of the elegant letters tattooed on his knuckles, commemorating her birth, she said, "Still calls me baby girl." She tapped the photo.

"I'm having trouble picturing this dude in a suit," Edward admitted, looking through the photographs. "What does he do?"

With pride, Bella explained that Charlie worked for the Michigan State Police Department. Charlie was a hacker—sorry, _Internet Security Specialist_. One of the best there was. He helped suss out and take down child pornography rings, dirty CEO's, and drug runners. Charlie Swan was one of the good guys, contrary to his rough appearance.

"Sounds like an impressive man. And you can truff me for this, but I think Angela was right. You should call him. Tell him what's happening." He nudged her knee.

The girl looked to where their knees touched, thin strands of brown hair fell away from her ponytail. "Shit," Bella hissed. "It's eleven." _Avoidance, thy name is Isabella Marie_.

An auburn head dipped, confirming the time on his watch. "So it is."

"You're kinda distracting, Seventeen."

"I could same thing about you." Forest green eyes studied Bella's face. The look wasn't steamy and salacious, but it made her body light up all the same. "Go to bed, Bella. I'm just going to fire off an email or two." He tapped the forgotten laptop.

Oddly nervous, she cleared her throat. "I'll just … I'm gonna get some sheets and stuff," she sputtered, standing up and grabbing the empty beer bottles. She disappeared into the kitchen, Jetta followed. Bella placed the bottles on the counter next to the sink, and stood fanning herself.

Looking down at the dog at her side, she whispered, "What gives the motherfucker the right to _look_ like that? I mean, _really_?"

The husky pawed at Bella's leg, as if to offer her support. It was then that she'd realized she'd been wearing the same navy and pink ribboned scrubs she changed into this morning. "Fuck my life!" she grumbled and threw her hands in the air.

"What's that?"

"No. Nothing. I'm good. Just talking to the dog." A _nd wishing I'd thought to put on a pair of frickin' jeans,_ she thought to herself, turning and smiling at the man standing in the doorway.

Bella turned off the light and climbed into her bed, her mind running back to the virtual stranger stretched out on her human-eating couch. It should be weird or uncomfortable. But it wasn't. She felt safe and she quickly drifted off the sleep.

"Hi Daddy," Bella said, her shoulder pinning the phone to her ear as she made her lunch for the day. She kept her voice low and moved around the kitchen as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake Edward.

Charlie's deep voice rumbled over the line. Years of smoking gave it a rasp that really did nothing for his good-guy image."Mornin' baby girl. What's shakin' in Beach Harbour?"

Stuffing a peanut butter and jam sandwich into her lunch bag, and licking the excess raspberry jam off her thumb, she straightened her back. "Well … I got a dog … Sam's back … just had a fucking pricey security system installed … oh and I met a guy," she rambled hoping the worst of the news was swallowed up.

A sound like a door slamming and then huffing piped through the earpiece. _No such luck_ , she thought, blindly groping in an open cupboard, searching for her stash of lunchtime treats. She was sure she still had a few Twinkies tucked away.

"What do you mean 'Sam's back'?" her father bellowed.

She explained to her father that she'd seen his car outside of work and that he'd phoned in the middle of the night. She told him about the kind, quick to act neighbor that scared him off the night he'd come peeping. She omitted the fact that said kind neighbor was now snoozing on her sofa.

"I'll take that goddamn boy apart," Charlie seethed. It was a vow, not an offside comment, she heard in his voice. Charlie would hunt Sam down, and Sam would never be heard from again. "How'd he find you, baby? You're not listed, you don't use social media, your internet and phone services are listed under another name. Unless this motherfucker picked up some new skills, I don't understand."

Clarity hit Bella, knocking the air from her lungs. "Shit," the girl hissed. A memory floated to the surface of her mind. Half drunk, middle of the night, and caught up in a conversation with Sam. She'd told him her mother lived in a small beach community. She never mentioned the name, but clearly the idea was enough for Sam to run with.

Charlie cursed an impressive blue streak. "I can't leave work right now. Fuck!" He took a breath and explained, "Human trafficking, Bells. They're actually auctioning off people. Kids." The disgust in his voice was bell clear.

"It's fine, Daddy. You keep doing good things there, I'm okay." Her thoughts skipped over to the next room and the beautiful sleeping man.

"I want someone with you at all times, baby. Understand?"

Agreeing, she turned to see Edward standing in the kitchen doorway, dopey-eyed and hair in an early-morning mess. He waved and mouthed " _Have a good day_ ," and disappeared.

"Blah, it's a good thing I keep a spare set of scrubs," Bella said, pinching the peach shirt and holding it away from her. "Kid cannot hold her fluoride."

"Oh that's gross," Angela snickered and held her hand over her nose as Bella walked passed her, with her change of clothes held at a safe distance.

Carefully, the dental hygienist folded herself out of the puke covered shirt and swapped it for a clean white top. She took the same care pulling off her scrub bottoms and tucking them into a plastic bag. A knock came as she tugged the string of her blue bottoms and knotted them.

"Yeah," she called out.

"Officer Biers is here." Her friend's voice sounded thin through the bathroom door. "Shake the stink off, girl."

"Be right there." Bella finished washing up, and when she opened the door she was greeted by a small blond girl with teary eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bella," the small girl said, hiccuping on unspent tears.

Going down to one knee, Bella wiped the moisture from the child's face. "It's okay, Robin. No harm, no foul. Look, all clean." She touched the girl's chin. "Now go see see Angela. I bet she's got some neat prizes in our treasure chest for you."

Robin smiled brightly and took off down the hall in search of a cheap trinket. Her mother smiled and thanked the hygienist as they walked to the front of the office.

As expected, Riley Biers had his shades on, leaning against the reception desk in casual way.. "Afternoon, Miss Swan. Is there a place we could talk for a moment?"

"Officer Biers," Bella greeted. Nodding, the newly dressed woman, motioned for him to follow as she led him down the hall to Eric's office. The door closed behind them and Riley took off his shades. "Did you find him?"

"A motel owner ID'ed him, said he'd been there for a little more than a week. The room was cleaned out, the car in the parking lot, abandoned. Found this in the front seat." The officer pulled a photo from the pocket over his heart and handed it to Bella.

"The blue dress," she whispered. Her fingers swept over the picture. An old, foggy memory came over her. His brother's wedding, twinkle lights everywhere and champagne that flowed into the wee hours of the morning. It was a good night. One of the last.

Shaking off the past, she told the cop about the red car Edward had seen parked in the lane.

"We assumed he'd snatched another car." Placing his sunglasses back in place and taking out his cell phone, Riley made a call to the police station, reporting the information Bella offered and requesting the information be passed on to nearby counties in the hopes of locating the stolen vehicle.

The five o'clock sun was hot and the humidity that had begun to creep over the harbor city in the early hours of the day, reached it's boiling point. Being outside for more than a few moments was completely unbearable.

Bella had stopped at the grocery store on the way home, picking up a few essentials, and a few not-so-essential items; like two boxes of chocolate popsicles and a tub of Rolo ice cream. The white, 2004, seen-better-days Sunfire came to a stop in her driveway with a squeal that told Bella that poor car wasn't likely to make it much longer. She sighed and pet the steering wheel.

Annoyed with the heat, she heaved the car door open, reached for her bags of loot and got out of the car.

"Hey!" A cheery voice called from behind her. "Here, let me take one of those." Edward held out his hand for a bag.

"Hot as Satan's balls out here," she complained, relinquishing a bag and shutting the car door with her hip.

"I love the heat." Edward smiled and turned his face to the sun.

"That's sick and wrong, Sir. Sick and wrong." She giggled and took a few steps toward the house and stopped. "Box," she said, jerking head toward the house, her eyes pinned to a small box that sat in front of her door.

Edward kept moving, calling out over his shoulder, "Yeah, a delivery van pulled away about an hour ago." He made to the second step before he turned and looked at his neighbor.

"Everything, and I mean _everything_ is delivered to my P.O. box, Edward. Even cards from my dad, it all goes to the post office on Becker." She stood still, staring at the unassuming cardboard box. "Have you ever seen Seven, Edward?"

He retreated to the lawn beside Bella.

"Twice in one day, Miss Swan, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you like having me around," Officer Biers said as her stepped away from the cruiser and crossed the lawn.

"My popsicles are ruined! Look at this." The sweaty brunette held up a plastic bag sloshing with a brown liquid. "There better be damn head in there at this point." She huffed and Edward held back a chuckle.

"Puked on at work and now your popsicles are melted. Feelin' a little hostile, I get it." Officer Biers marched up the stairs and stood over the offending box. "Well, it's not leaking, so I think we can rule out human head." Careful and slow, the man picked up the box and brought it to his ear.

"Great way to get your face blown off," Bella pointed out.

"He's a stalker, not the unabomber. He doesn't want to blow you to smithereens, he wants to surprise you." The officer sounded awfully confident. Bella, not so much. He came down off the porch, pulling a small Swiss knife from his pocket. Walking toward them, he punctured the tape, keeping the lid closed, and ran the knife down the center. Placing it on the hood of Bella's Sunfire, he carefully pulled the flaps back.

"Oh my God," Bella choked, reaching into the box. Her shaking hand pulled a stack of photos from inside. Pictures of her jogging, watering the lawn, arriving at work, even pictures of her out on dates. A year's worth of pictures cataloging her life to that point. "He's been watching the whole time. Waiting."

Officer Biers took one of the photos and held it up. It was obvious the pictures had been taken from a car, and as he scanned the area, he surmised that it must have been taken from a neighbor's driveway a few doors down.

Bella began to tremble, tears fell quietly down her face. "How could I not have known? He was right here."

The officer gently pried the photos from her hand and let them fall back into the box. He closed the lid and put a hand on Bella's shoulder. "He didn't want to be seen. He was careful. Just like he's being careful now. Just means we need to step up our game. We'll catch him. I promise." His voice was sincere and soft.

"Change of venue," Edward said. He took the keys from her unsteady hands and made his way inside the house. When he reappeared, his arms were loaded down with dog food and the dog's dishes. Jetta pranced beside him. "We'll stay at my place tonight." He winked at her. "Go grab your things, I'm making sushi."

"Come on in," Edward shouted from the other side of the storm door.

The door creaked and groaned, sounding just as put-out by the heat as Bella was. Jetta jumped and danced, as her owner opened the door. "Hey, pretty girl." She smoothed her hand over the dog's back, patting her back end.

Bella looked around; the living room was long and wide. A large flat screen sucked up a good portion of the far wall and various framed movie posters took up the rest. The walls were a decadent chocolate color, the sectional a perfect pearl shade. The contrast was lovely and inviting. The girl placed her bag on an overstuffed chair and went in search of Edward.

Following chopping noises, she found the kitchen. It was bright and airy. Edward stood at a small island in the center, working a knife like a pro, creating thin sticks of cucumber. "How can I help?" she asked.

The would be sushi chef looked up from the chopping block. He stopped, putting the knife down and really looked at her. "You clean up nice, Fourteen. I mean … you look good … no scrubs," he blurted.

Before leaving, Bella changed into a pair of navy cotton shorts and a bright yellow tank top. She'd washed her face and brushed out her frizzy hair, quickly fixing it in a messy side-braid while Office Biers hung out in the driveway. "I do look good without scrubs," she teased, and she couldn't believe the flirt that oozed out of her mouth. "So where do want me?"

Pausing, he seemed to contemplate his response. "You can grab a bottle of wine and get comfortable." Canting his tousled, auburn head, he indicated the direction.

"Deal." Humming in delight, Bella held up a bottle of red, declared her love, and then told that bottle exactly what kind of fate it would meet. That earned a hearty laugh from the sushi master. Smacking her lips, she opened the red Bearflag, admired the wine glasses Edward had placed on the counter, and poured a healthy glass for each of them.

"Ahem," Edward cleared his throat and pointed the tip of this knife at the freezer on the bottom of the fridge. "Check the freezer."

Wine in hand, the girl pulled the freezer drawer open and squealed. "Cherry Popsicles! May I?" Bella's barefeet tapped out a funny little dance, and she grinned from ear to ear.

Chucking, a look of amusement on his face, Edward nodded. "Figured you might like one of those."

"You have no idea. I was thinking about popsicles all damn day. It was pretty much my goal for the night, eat a box of popsicles and watch an episode or two of Penny Dreadful. That's all I wanted from life. Popsicles and chill."

Conversation flowed as simple and easy as taking a step. First dates, Edward's siblings, favorite books and music. All the cliché things you might cover in a Tinder conversation. Wine glows strong, they took the restless husky for a walk around the block, laughing and chattering on about embarrassing moments, though how they came to that topic, Bella couldn't say. The occasional amorous comment was lobbed, and just as they rounded the block, Edward reached out and twined his fingers with Bella's.

Shutting the door behind him, Edward whistled and then pitched a few interesting expletives into the air.

"Edward?" Bella said in a tentative voice. "Your tics … does stress provoke them?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, turning to look at the slender brunette.

Pinning her eyes on his face, she asked, "Do I make you nervous?"

Taking three quick steps forward, his hands found her hips and he walked her backward until she was trapped. The cool wall shocked Bella's overheated skin and she startled. "Yes," he hissed, his mouth incredibly close to hers. "You make me nervous. You make me feel human, not a sideshow."

Breath smelling sticky sweet and wine-soaked, she placed her hands on his forearms.

"So what are you waiting for?" she challenged. Bella's brain easily kicked out a dozen reasons why this might not be the smartest idea, but they all seemed idiotic when his green eyes looked at her like that.

When warm, soft lips met hers, she politely told her brain to shut the fuck up, and opened her mouth. She tasted wine and mint and cherry, and it was exquisite. This was a slow, burning kind of kiss. The kind that scorched away every other kiss and left a stamp on your lips you'd never scrub off.

Pulling away, and breathing out a shaky breath, Edward's hands cupped the sides of her face. "Wanna watch that episode of Penny, now?"

Blinking and feeling a little sideswiped, Bella's featured morphed into a puzzled mask. "What?"

"Just kidding." Edward snickered and went in for another kiss. This one was playful, nipping and licking at her lips. "Would it be completely absurd, if I asked you strip out of those clothes?" Pressing against the girl's soft form, his teeth raked over her earlobe.

Pushing away from the wall, Bella padded over to the plush sectional. "Curtains." She tipped her chin up and looked pointedly at the open window, her fingers fiddled with the hem of her sunny tank top.

In a hasty movement, he jerked the curtains closed and advanced on the girl. Before he could reach her, she pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it. A salacious grin stretched across his face and he stopped, a mere foot between them. Tracing the tip of his finger in a circle around her bellybutton, she shivered. "If this is booze fueled, tell me now."

"Mild buzz. I have all my faculties about me, promise." Crossing her heart, the brunette sat on the couch, tugging on his hand.

Rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip, Edward stepped between her knees and bent forward until his forehead touched hers. "And the seven years between us?"

She scoffed. "If it were an issue, Edward, I wouldn't be sitting in your living room topless. Is it a problem for you?" Turning the question on him, her fingers sneaked under the hem of his shirt and tickled the skin just above the waist of his jeans.

Apparently, it wasn't an issue. Pushing her bare shoulders until she lay flat, he guided her up the sectional with an arm tucked around her waist. His feet dangled off the open end, and her thighs parted, cradling him. Sweeping his index finger from navel to sternum and back, Bella closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Goose bumps pushed up like spring flowers all over her exposed skin, and her back arched when he cupped her breast, squeezing firmly.

With his thumb and finger, he flicked open her front clasp bra and swept the material to the sides. "Thirty-three and I still think boobs are the greatest thing ever," he admitted, brushing the rough pad of his thumb over her pink, pebbled flesh.

"Even I can appreciate a great rack," Bella said with a lopsided smile, jumping a little when his warm mouth sucked gently on her neck. Grabbing fist fulls of blue fabric, she pulled his T-shirt over his head and let her hands slide over his smooth skin. A gasp escaped Bella when Edward's teeth closed on her shoulder.

That flipped a switch in Bella, and what was a slow, sensual exploration became almost primal. Guiding his mouth to hers, she kissed him deeply. Her hips began to move in a steady rhythm. She silently thanked the inventor of denim, because the rough fabric provided the perfect amount of friction.

Pulling away from the kiss, Edward's finger touched her lower lip. "Open." When she did, he slipped his finger into her mouth, a mewling sound broke free as he did. "That's a fucking beautiful sound." His voice was rough and dirty in her ear.

Nails biting down, Bella's hands gripped his hips and urged him to move against her. His wet finger dragged over the tip of her chin, then tickled her neck, slowly coasted between the humble swell of her breasts, and stopped just below her navel. Their eyes connected, and the moment Edward's hand dipped below the waist of her shorts, her tummy fluttered in anticipation.

Running his finger over her damp panties, he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers. It was maddening, and she loved it. Her eyes slipped shut and she focused on that fluttering pit in her stomach and warm hand between her legs.

Her hips rocked, seeking more, wanting skin to skin connection. Hitching her leg over his hip, she begged him to touch her.

"Say it again," he ordered in a breathy voice, applying a little more pressure.

"Oh God, please. Touch me!" There wasn't an ounce of shame in her voice, she'd gladly beg for a little relief.

Edward groaned, sliding against her once more, before tugging her underwear to the side and dipping two fingers inside. A loud cry issued, and Bella's back arched. A new wave of heat flooded the girl's veins. He pumped his fingers easy and slow, grinding against her with each forward movement.

Feeling greedy, Bella reached forward, gripping handfuls of hair, drawing him nearer. Her breath pushed out, tiny squeaks chased each exhale. "Feels so good," she mumbled against his open mouth. The vibrating pit in her belly grew, and her pelvis moved, tilting, searching.

"Not quite hitting the mark, hey, Popsicle?" Edward asked, withdrawing. He began to push off her.

Shocked, Bella looked into summer green eyes. "I …" She wasn't sure what to say. Did she need more, yes. Was it good, yes. Would she have reached orgasm… she couldn't answer that. Also … _Popsicle_?

"I think the last time I fingered someone on a couch, I was sixteen." Sitting back on his heels, he placed his hands on her waist, fisting the cotton material of her little shorts. "Lift," he said. "It's an angles game."

 _He's not wrong_ , she thought, remember more than a few almost-there moments. Hips pushed off the plush couch, and he peeled her shorts off, taking her useless panties with them. Dropping the clothes, he took in the sight before him. Bella was completely exposed, and with the needful way his eyes roamed her flushed body, she didn't seem to mind.

His knuckles caressed her sun-kissed thighs, traveling from knee to hip and back again. "I could say that you're stunning, or perfect, or some other romance novel cliché. But I think I'm just going to go with wow."

Bella chuckled. "I'm good with wow."

Dragging his hands up her legs again, using a little pressure, his fingers digging in just enough to leave a delicate, red trail, he pulled her hips up, reached down, and grabbed a small, brown throw pillow that must have been shoved off the couch at some point. He positioned it on his legs under her ass. Giving her a wicked wink, he said, "Shall we try this again?" Edward's voice rolled the words over, dirtying each syllable. He licked his fingers, smiled, and pushed inside.

Her legs squeezed around him, hugging his torso. "Holy fuck!" she cried.

Watching her body writhe, he smiled. "Eyes right here," he said, when Bella's eyes squeezed closed.

One hand clutched the sofa, anchoring her in the sensation; the other wandered, grazing her stomach, cupping her breasts, and then slipping between her open thighs, teasing her excited body and enjoying the feel of Edward's hand working her.

Her hips began to spin in small, slow circles. She knew she was close, and the string of profanities that dropped from her lips grew louder, more needful.

"Christ, those words never sounded so fucking good," Edward professed. His eyes were fixed on her face, occasionally drifting to where his fingers were buried inside her.

"So romance novel," the writhing girl said, between whimpers and naughty words.

Edward snickered, and leaned to her just the slightest, adding a little more pressure and friction.

"Yes!" she cried out, panting. "Oh, fuck, I'm right there. Please." The begging was ineffectual; her body was too close to the tipping point to back down now.

"Come," Edward growled, looming over her.

And with a loud squeak, she did. Her fists screwed into tight little balls, her eyes slammed shut and as she exhaled, she began to giggle.

"Thank you," Bella said, lying on her side, Edward tucked in next to her. Her clothes remained on the floor by the couch. She was perfectly content and comfortable.

"Please tell me you're not thanking me for an orgasm."

Flicking his ear playfully, she rolled her eyes. "No. For the sushi, the wine. For the conversation. For the distraction." Her voice thinned out and her brown eyes searched his face.

"So, I'm a distraction? I feel so used." Edward's bottom lip quivered and the pout he delivered was Oscar worthy.

"Not you, jack-hole, all the other stuff. I needed that. Today, with those pictures …" She didn't finish her sentence, tears stacking quick and thick.

"Happy to be a distraction." He kissed her forehead and let his hand caress the curve of her hip. "That hallelujah course alone was worth the effort," he teased with a wink.

"I needed that, too," she admitted, wiping fat tears from her cheeks. "Can I ask you something?"

"Fire away."

"How come you don't ever leave your house?"

The copper-haired man, pursed his lips. A pensive expression took over his face. "I hate it out there," he admitted, canting his head toward the bay window. "People are rude and cruel to each other. Things look better from my window, ya know?"

Fingertip tracing his bare chest, she nodded in agreement.

"But I saw you out there. Washing your car, digging around in your garden, talking to our neighbors; and I wanted that. I want to know the people around me, to be, I don't know, fucking connected or something. So I put on my big boy pants yesterday and came over."

A little flattered by his omission, she propped herself up on her elbow and looked down on him. "Not all of them. Some of them are dillholes."

"The screamer next door, kills me. Sits on her front porch, hollering into her phone. Whole fucking neighbourhood can hear her." Edward's face morphed, the pensive lines turning into laugh lines.

"Jessica!" Bella provided with a giggle. "And she has reason to shout. Her ex-husband is a world class dick. Left her for some woman he works with."

"Ah, traded in for a younger model?"

Shaking her brunette head, she answered, "Noooo. Older, by like fifteen years or something. He leaves her ridiculous messages." Bella went on to tell him about the hipster couple—Kayla and Howard—and the impressive greenhouse in their backyard. About the special baked goods they would make and bring to her sister after chemo treatments. She jabbered on about Vince, with the pristine lawn and how mean he was.

"See, I want to know that," he said with a hint of determination in his voice.

"There's a barbecue next weekend at Kayla and Howie's, come with me. They're good people, Edward." She encouraged him with her voice and the soft strokes of her hand on his lower abdomen. "Can I ask you something else?" Nervous teeth chewed away at her bottom lip.

"Anything else."

"The women I've seen … leaving here? Relatives or …" A tad embarrassed to admit she'd been watching too, she let her words drop.

Clearing his throat, he answered honestly, "Some are clients …" he whistled, " …others short term girl friends, flings. A week or two of sounds like that one, and maybe an embarrassing moment at restaurant or in a quiet movie theater, and that's it, they're done."

"I'll say it again, people suck."

Forgetting their morning obligations, they left the couch to the dog, crawled into Edward's king-sized bed, and talked until the sun chased away the darkness.

As the week drifted on, summer heat growing bolder and more intense, Edward became a constant. It was easy and comfortable, and though it was all too fast, she'd never had anything so simple before and it felt good. As wonderful as it was, however, she hadn't, for a moment, forgotten about Sam.

Since the incident with the photos, nothing new had happened. Sam was a storm cloud, inching closer, building, waiting to burst. She could feel it all around her, like the electric charge in the air before the lightening strikes. He was waiting, biding his time.

Two days ago, Deputy Hallett had called on a balmy afternoon to let Bella know that Jake, Sam's brother, had filed a missing person's report with the Detroit police. Sam hadn't reported to work in more than three weeks, and his family hadn't seen or heard from him in about a week. Deputy Hallett informed them of Sam's recent behavior and that they were looking to serve him with a protections order. Sam had no intention of being found. He was clever and very resourceful, something Bella had once admired about the man.

Charlie called every evening, concerned for his daughter's safety, but unable to leave his work obligations. The case he'd been working on turned out to be much larger and therefore much more complicated than they thought.

"Eating your veggies, kid?" Charlie said, by way of greeting one evening.

Grinning from ear to ear, Bella replied, "Nope. Nothin' but nachos and beer"

A hearty chuckle rumbled through the line. "That's my girl!" There was a small pause, and she could hear the distinctive sound of a cap being pried off a bottle. "So, Edward checks out," he announced.

A funny smile lit Bella's face. She'd told her father about the man she met, and though she'd asked him not to 'look into Edward,' she knew he would. She knew he wouldn't be able to help himself.

"Big on online shopping. Watches porn, but nothing out of the ordinary," Charlie informed her in a rather off-the-cuff way. Business as usual.

Phone pressed to her ear and a hand kneading pizza dough, the brunette chuckled. When Edward looked up, she placed her hand over the phone and said in a quiet voice, "You watch too much porn." She'd prepared Edward for the eventuality that her father would completely disregard just about every law there was on the matter of personal privacy. Surprisingly, he had just shrugged it off. Given the situation and the threat to Bella's safety, he understood why a father would go to such lengths.

Edward made a sound and shrugged.

"Is he there? Is the boy with you now?"

" _The boy_?" Bella snorted. "Yeah, Daddy, the boy is here." Lifting the ball of dough, she reached for the container of flour, sprinkling the countertop.

"Put him on," Charlie demanded.

"Shit," she mumbled, pointing the phone at Edward. "He wants to talk to you. Sorry." Grimacing, she waved the phone at him again.

Edward pushed away from the table, he looked a tad … ill as he reached for the small cell.

Speaking loud enough for her father to hear, Bella said, "If he asks if you're sleeping with his daughter, which by the way _he won't_ , you just hang up. Mm kay?" The look she tossed at Edward before he lifted the phone to his face, was a _take no shit_ kind of look.

Turning her back to Edward, she grabbed the rolling pin sitting out, and began to roll out the sticky dough.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Swan," she heard him say. "Yes, Sir … No, Sir, not at all … Yeah … Absolutely, Sir … Yes … Right then … Good night, Charlie."

Dusting a little more flour on the pin, Bella asked, "Sooo, how'd it go? Did he ask if we were sleeping together. I fuckin' hate it when he does that."

"No, but he made it clear if I hurt you in any way, he'd hunt me like a wild animal and bronze my balls like a trophy. Oh, and he called you 'Belly'," he teased, moving in behind her, his arms going around her waist.

The rolling pin stopped and she turned in his arms. "Of course he did. 'Cause what man wants to get down and dirty with a girl whose father threatens their manhood _and_ refers to his daughter with some cute pet name? All the sexy goes right down the drain after that." She threw her arms in the air in disbelief. "That was a dick move," she huffed.

Taking a strand of soft, brown hair between his fingers, Edward locked eyes with the girl in his arms. "Hey, Popsicle? Wanna get dirty?"

It was pitch black when she heard glass breaking at the back of the house. Jolting sleepy-eyed Bella from a lovely and wicked dream, her hands groped the space next to her, and found it empty. Her memory quickly jogged; Edward had left at quarter to eleven, having to be at a meeting in the morning. Panic immediately flooded her system, irises blowing wide to take in the darkness around her, heart crashing wildly; she was hyper alert. Somewhere, at the front of the house, she heard Jetta barking and growling in a way she'd never heard before. It was primal, it was vicious. When she was very suddenly quiet, Bella leaped to her feet, fearing the worst for her four legged friend.

Her hand clutching the knob, ready to tear the bedroom door open, she stopped. _If Sam is in the house, he's looking for you,_ the terrified girl thought. She turned the lock, engaging it and stepped away from the door. She spun and searched the room for her phone. And it was then that she realized she hadn't heard the alarm sound.

Thoughts ran in a dozen different directions. An animal? Had that wayward branch fallen and struck a window? She took a deep breath and let her ears absorb every creak and croak. She heard shuffling. _Animals generally don't shuffle, and certainly don't wear shoes_ , she thought, picking up on the footsteps.

 _Find your fucking phone, Isabella!_

Checking her bedside table, the dresser and the scrubs she'd stripped out of that evening, she came up empty handed. "God damn it!" With sickening clarity, she knew the phone was on the kitchen counter, where she'd left it.

 _"_ Isabella, baby, open the door!" The handle jiggled.

Bella jumped at the sound of Sam's voice on the other side of the door.

"No, no, no," she chanted, backing into the corner of her room.

 _Bang_

Sam's hand slammed against the door, and he begged in a dangerous voice for Bella to open the door.

Pursing her lips, she remained still and quiet. " _Keep a level head, kid_ ," she heard Charlie's voice whisper through a memory. She took another deep breath, her hands shook and sweat coated her skin. She eyed the window. The house was a 1970's brick ranch, climbing out the window posed no risk of major injury. Creeping on barefeet, she stopped at the window, gripped a cord and tugged, sending plastic blinds up.

 _Bang Bang Bang_

"Still got a thing for superheroes, huh, Bells?"

A different knocking came, the sound of something small, hard. Her phone. The case she had on her phone was an Avengers case, The Black Widow.

" _Seventeen_? That's the asshole across the street, isn't it!?" His fist struck the door again, louder, splintering the old wood. Quieter, and much more furiously, he said, "I saw you, Isabella. I saw him touching you."

She didn't know how, but Sam had been watching that first night with Edward. Anger rose up in her and she felt violated in a way his fists could never had made her feel. Fighting the urge to pick up something heavy and go out there swinging, she unlocked the window and gently eased it open. Bella peeked her head outside, and when the night air hit her, she remembered her bare chest and blindly scooped a T-shirt from the dresser next to the window.

Bella threw one leg out the window, her palms resting on the window's sill, and pivoted; climbing out of her room, her bare feet landed with ease on the cool lawn between the homes. Swift and light footed, she creeped around the house. She could see Edward's house from where she stood.

Heart still thumping in a hard beat against her ribs, she scanned the dark before her and then glanced over her shoulder. Then her feet started her body forward and she made a dash for Edward's house.

Not four steps into her sprint, thick arms wrapped around her torso, and a large, hot hand came up, covering her mouth before she had the chance to scream. Bella flailed wildly. Grabbing for exposed skin and she bit down on the hand at her mouth. With ease, he pulled her back, her toes barely grazing the grass beneath her.

He dragged her up the three small stairs, and right through the front door of her own home.

 _"If you think you can't get away, you bite, you kick, you spit. You do not make it easy on them, Belly."_

She listened to that whisper and as soon as her feet landed on solid ground again, she planted them, and bent at the waist, shoving back with everything she had. Sam's vice grip loosened and he stumbled, but never lost his hold her. The second his hand slipped just the slightest, she let out an ear piercing scream.

With a grunt, he regained his footing and tugged her hard against his massive chest. "Play nice, pretty girl," he warned.

"Fuck you," she spat behind his slick hand. She tasted his sweat and smelled something desperate on him. More than the arms locking her body in place, that smell terrified her.

He chuckled.

Lips at her ear, Sam said, "The thing about security systems, baby, is that if you cut the phone lines, it's useless. No one's coming for you." He kissed her temple.

Slamming her head to the side, Bella heard a crack as the side of her head collided with Sam's face. In that same second she brought her foot down on his as hard as she could. Her head rang and her vision blurred for a few seconds.

That protective instinct each person has, gave Bella the opening she needed when Sam let her go and brought his hands to his face. He pitched curses and threats at her back as she raced forward, slamming the door behind her. She made it to the curb before she heard her storm door fly open and bang off the doorframe.

She turned to see Sam storming down the tiny porch and gunning right for her. Fists balled tight at her sides, she looked him right in the eye, opened her mouth and screamed, "FIRE!" His feet stopped their forward march and he stared at the brunette.

"9-1-1! FIRE!" She screeched so loud her throat burned with the effort. Bella walked backward onto the street, and her eyes never left Sam's angry face.

Behind her a door opened and clamoured, quick footfalls came closer and closer.

"Bella!" Edward roared.

Sam began to back-peddle to the side, likely in the direction of a car he had parked somewhere on the street. Another door opened, and Jessica stepped out onto her porch, phone in hand. Bella could hear her relaying details about what woke her at three in the morning and what was playing out on the street in front of her.

Edward flew passed her in sleep pants and nothing more. He barreled forward, catching up to Sam quickly. Edward shoved Sam and Sam pitched forward, tumbling to the ground. Seconds later, Edward was on him, fists coming down in angry, swift blows, like the strike of a cobra.

"Edward, stop!" Bella shouted, drawing closer to the brawl. Sam struggled to get a shot in. "Stop." She made her voice soft, quiet.

Looking up, Edward took a deep breath, pulling himself back. He straightened himself and side-stepped the heap at his feet.

Bella grabbed his forearm and pulled him to her. "I'm okay," she assured.

Sirens cut through the sounds of heavy breathing and the adrenalin that had sharpened Bella's senses, drained, the world around her flickered away.

Breathing in, Bella smelled a familiar spice mixed with antiseptic. She heard her father's voice, low and commanding. There was someone else in the room, a voice she didn't know. Below the chatter, was the sharp beeping of a machine. She swallowed and tasted copper.

"Daddy," Bella croaked, weak and no better than a whisper. Her eyelids felt heavy and she struggled to open them.

"Bella? Hey, baby girl."

Her eyes zoomed in and out of focus, and between heavy blinks, she caught her father's big brown eyes looking down at her. His hand rested on hers, swallowing it whole. She forced her eyes open and looked down at the tattoos that colored his knuckles: BABY.

In a hoarse voice, Bella asked, "Where am I?"

"Harbor Beach Community Hospital," Charlie answered plainly. "What do you remember?"

Closing her eyes, she tugged on her memory. "Vomiting on a pretty, blonde nurse." Clips and bits of talk filtered through.

" … A concussion …"

" … Possible skull fracture …"

" … Best to run an MRI …"

She made a face, but reached further back. "Edward." She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around the room.

"Has a few broken knuckles, maybe a fracture in his wrist," Charlie answered quickly. "I like him."

"Dad, he beat the shit out Sam. Where is he? Did they arrest him?"

"Initially, yes, he was charged with assault. But, given his shiny-clean record, and my unbelievable sway with the Michigan State Police, the charges were dropped. Your boy's just down in imaging havin' a fancy photo session with that nurse you puked on. Rose, I think her name was. Pretty little thing."

Relief washed through Bella, her shoulders sagged and dropped back to the bed. A dull, pulsing pain on the right side of her face made her wince. She brought her fingers up, gingerly feeling a large lump on the side of her head. "Fuck, that smarts," she spat, bringing her hand away.

"Wanna tell me how that happened, kid?"

Her lips curled in anger, remembering his mouth pressed against her temple. "He kissed my face, I broke his nose."

"Atta girl. Bells, I want to ask you something, and please, even if it's hard, even if it hurts, _please_ tell me the truth." There was a worried look on Charlie's handsome face. One she'd only ever seen once before: the night she was admitted to the hospital for extensive, life threatening injuries.

She nodded once and waited.

Clearing his throat, Charlie asked, "Did he rape you?"

"What? No, Daddy." Confusion wrapped tightly around her words and she quirked her head.

The breath that Charlie was holding, let go like air from a balloon, and he sat back in the mustard colored chair. He rubbed his hand over his not-so-clean shaven face and sighed. " _Why_ were you in nothing but a T-shirt?"

Embarrassment brought a flush to Bella's skin. "Well …" she stretched the word out " … I wasn't clothed when I fell asleep. Figured the T-shirt was better than nothing."

"Likin' Edward a little bit less now," he grumbled, clearly catching the things his daughter didn't say.

"Stop. He's good to me, and you should see him with—" Her tired brain threw another memory out and tears bunched in her throat. "Jetta?"

Her father bowed his head, lips pursed in a hard line. He didn't need to say anything, Bella understood that her new friend was gone. "Sam?" Bella asked.

"Your boyfriend fucked him up pretty good. He's cuffed to a hospital bed, awaiting transfer to Jackson. He'll be arraigned when he's able. There's a few suits out there that are gonna wanna talk to you, baby girl. You up for it?"

She inhaled and nodded. Though her head throbbed, her heart hurt, and her throat was still a little raw from screaming, she repeated her story for Officers Riley Biers and Jane Hallett.

A bright yellow "FOR SALE" sign swung back and forth in the late summer breeze as Edward hauled the last of the boxes out the front door of 14 Kissling Lane. He marched across the street, offering a friendly hello to Kayla and Howie as they strolled by with their massive mutt.

"That's it," Edward stated as he passed the box to Bella. He handed her the keys and plopped down on the sofa with a grunt.

Bella placed the box on the loveseat and laid down on the couch, feet propped up on Edward's lap, and surveyed the house at 17 Kissling Lane. It was a blend of Bella and Edward; mismatched, but perfectly complimenting each other.

Everything seemed to be running in fast forward, but it was a pace Bella was happy to match. Their relationship began in chaos, but it seemed, for now, that life was easing off the curve balls, and they were going to take full advantage of that. For once, Bella could clearly see a well beaten path in her future, one that was simple and clear; and she wanted nothing more than to walk that path with Edward by her side.

So that's that folks!

I hope you enjoyed the story. I had a blast writing it, even if it did touch on some dark themes.

Serious note time: This compilation came about because tragedy struck a fandom-family member. She, and several friends, took that dark moment and twisted it on it's head, using it as a platform to discuss the hard stuff: mental health. To this day, a stigma surrounds all things mental health and this fandom stood up and said: Lets talk about all the dark things. The things that haunt us, scare us, confuse us. Let's pull back the curtain, talk about the elephant in the room. It was amazing to read the confessions of people, fandom-friends that have been affected by mental health issues, directly or otherwise. It was even more amazing to see the support and the acceptance. I'm so proud to have been part of that.

Thank you for including me.

Now go do good things, people!

~MissJanuary


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